For some reason I’ve been dreaming of becoming a super heroine, like those I grew up watching on TV and in movies.
Unfortunately, I am a blob. A jelly with fats here and there whose most intensive workout was ballet.
However, I decided some time ago that I had to do something if I wanted to become a heroine. I had to learn martial arts.
And there was a Muay Thai training place that just recently opened nearby.
So, I told my friend Gabriella about it, and the two of us headed there on Monday night.
We started with stretching and mini cardio warm ups. That wasn’t so bad.
Then, we got to shadowboxing. The instructors rolled their eyes at us, I believe. Even though I could not see their faces most of the times because I was busy trying to survive – I knew somehow, that they were rolling their eyes in their brains.
My friend Gabriella did yoga, and this wasn’t the kind of things she would do. She was a lady – elegant, slim, calm, and you could almost hear “Namaste” the moment you saw her walk into the room.
Let’s just sum it up this way: We looked pathetic.
They said shadowboxing made people look stupid. Well, we just brought stupid to another level.
Afterwards, we started punching and kicking. And it was awesome. I actually had a lot of fun.
So Gabriella decided that this wasn’t her passion and she decided to not come back. That was understandable.
On the other hand, I thought, that since McDo was only two minutes away from the training center and that I still wanted to be a heroine, I had to continue. It must have been a sign from God, that I had to take the membership and get McDo after practice.
Thus, I took the membership, and vowed to go at least twice a week. Afterwards, I went to the McDo drive through and got my dinner. I felt great, it was an intense workout and I was happy.
I told myself that I was becoming Speedy.
The day after – I woke up without pain. I was happy and I bragged about how tough I was and that the first training was not as bad as I thought it’d be.
Few hours later – I could barely feel my right leg. I wasn’t sure what to do so I pretended to be okay.
Before bedtime – I started dragging my right leg. Of course, I had to hide it. I had to fake it.
The next two days – I could barely get up or move my legs.
Then on Friday, I went for another session in the early evening at the Muay Thai center.
When I reached the place, they were getting their matting done on the floor. The receptionist told me, “It takes awhile, so just wait for ten minutes or so.”
The instructors were taking a nice break, and so I thought, yeah, let them rest for a bit.
An hour later, I was growing impatient. I had to tell the nice receptionist that, “I am so sorry, but I have been waiting for an hour. I know that the second floor has a Muay Thai practice room as well, so can I just go there and do some stretches or warm ups?”
So I headed towards the second floor and then started stretching.
Ten minutes later, an instructor walked into the room and told me, “Jump rope.”
And I was excited because finally the session began. I didn’t think much about the fact that since I was alone, this would be a private session.
About five minutes into the warm up, I started bleeding internally. I heard stories of people my age who died after warm ups before Muay Thai – and I did not want to end up dead. At least not on a Muay Thai mat.
“I am weak. A jelly. Like, I’m so breakable that you should definitely spare my life. Can’t you tell that I’m a beginner, sir?” I told the instructor. More like begging, actually.
And what was I expecting? Of course he’d say this:
Of course you’re a beginner. But don’t worry. You will get better. It’s okay. Keep jumping.
I worried. I couldn’t help it when my body felt like it was being thrown into some natural disaster.
But I had always been a proud woman. Despite a dramatic plea that came from me every few minutes, I still had to stay strong so that I wouldn’t look any more pathetic than I already did.
So I kept on going.
And checking the time every few seconds or so.
I mean, how could one and a half hour be so long? It usually flew by like a minute in a lecture room.
Here’s a video I found that described some of the stuff I had to do. But imagine a weak, jelly-like fighter instead of that cool dude.
And you’d be able to picture me on the mat.
So after I told the instructor that, “I think it’s time for me to shower and go home.” Because yes, I had this feeling that he might forget the time.
Why didn’t that room have a clock yet?
So he asked me the time and when he realized we ran out of time, he told me to do one last thing: Speed punches.
A lot of them. No break. No pause. Just many, many, now powerless punches.
Did I tell you already that I was a proud woman?
So I kept punching, and punching, and punching. And deep down inside, I was praying to God to spare my life.
I got home an hour later, and of course, I got McDo, but it didn’t heal me.
For the first time, McDo could not heal me.
I got home, showered, and passed out. I could not even pretend to be okay anymore. My strength was all gone.
It was just week 1. I’d be getting better and stronger, right?